The Vampire's Whisper
by Nereverar
Summary: The dreams of a fresh hunter of the night.
1. Chapter 1

the Lake

the Lake

Irillian limped down the path, sun beating down on his neck. He knew tomorrow he would have a pink mark on his skin. A wolf had earlier snapped at his leg, leaving a large tooth mark in his shin, where it bled uncontrollably. The lake beside him sparkled a deep, peacock blue. It was incredibly hot inside his pitch-black armour. His brain seemed fuzzy, he could not focus on the task ahead of him, what with the sun's heat and light making him almost faint.

The area around him was familiar, and it seemed as though his feet were guiding him along the path, allowing his brain to wander away. It was as if the sun was baking his brain, making it hard to realize where he was going. He could not exactly recall why he was sent to this area, as soon as he started to hang on to a memory, it would slip away, as he was distracted by something else.

A swallow flew close by his head, its wings fanning him for a moment, before it left and the sun shone back down upon him. How could he get away from this heat? There was something that would let him cool down… He knew it, but thinking of it seemed impossible on this incredibly hot day. He was quite sure it had something to do with trees. The word was right there, dancing joyfully in front of him, he was trying to grab hold of it, but it always slipped out of his grasp.

Bemused, Irillian drifted off, wondering how strange it would be to have a solid word, bouncing around just out of his reach. _No…_ he thought. _I need to know how to get rid of the heat._ _Trees, something to do with trees…_ He stopped, trying his hardest to focus. He turned to stare at one of the many trees surrounding the path on which he stood.

_Shade…_ said his brain to him. Irillian smiled, glad that he finally worked something out on that day, and walked to the shade of an old oak tree. A wave of fresh air seemed to wash over him as he stepped into the shadow. What relief, he could just forget about his contract, simply lie down and sleep forever, the Dark Brotherhood would never know. He strolled towards the tree, forgetting of the pain in his leg, and leaned against the trunk, sliding down it into a sitting position.

How wonderfully comfortably it was sitting there, the blue lake reflecting the cloudless sky, the sun beaming down on him, as a small breeze played happily on his cheek. He closed his eyes, wishing that he could forget everything. Slowly, his brain seemed to drift off again, and he started to wonder why he was there.

Irillian's eyes snapped open and he stared at the lake, frowning. Something had caught his eye, yet he couldn't figure out what it was. He stood up and headed towards the water, out towards the middle of the lake, it wasn't blue at all, but a deep, dark red. The red seemed to be taking over the blue, spreading from the middle of the lake outwards, within minutes it had reached the edge of all the sides, and the whole of the lake was that same, dark red.

Irillian crouched down, confused. Once again the sun was beating down on him, he snarled, it seemed to hurt quite a lot, as if its heat had amplified by ten since he had last been in its light. It stung at his neck, and seemed to head down his throat, making his voice raspy and dry. He continued to stare at the red water. He seemed to long to drink it, but didn't know why. Then it hit him. No water was red. This was not water.

Blood.

Licking his lips, he plunged his hands into its depths, and pulled back out a reasonable amount of the red liquid. He hurriedly dipped his mouth into the blood in his hands, gulping it down in mouthfuls. His craving seemed to grow, and he put his hands back into the blood. But something was wrong. As the sun continued to weaken him rapidly, he did not just pull blood out of the lake. A cold, white arm came out of the drink, clinging onto his arm with extreme strength. Irillian gasped, pulling his arm away from the other, which quickly let go, but not before more arms seemed to appear from the blood.

'No,' Irillian muttered weakly. 'No, please. Stop! STOP!'

But the arms would not listen to him. As they moved more and more out of the lake, pale white faces of woman emerged, followed by torsos draped in stained togas, then came the legs and feet. More and more bodies came out towards Irillian, as he crawled backwards hopelessly on the ground. The woman bared their fangs, smirking, as the grabbed hold of Irillian and pulled him back into the lake.

Irillian could do nothing to stop them, the sung was making him almost faint with pain, he could not stand it anymore. They had reached the edge, and his feet dropped into the lake. There was nothing that could stop the bodies from taking him. They were holding onto him so tight he could barely move his arms. There was no way he could reach the blade at his side. The sun was blinding him, it was too much, too much.

A distant scream issued from all around him, and he woke up in his cold bed, drenched in sweat, shaking, as he realised the scream was coming from him. His voice broke, and the scream was no more. He could not get the terrifying visions of the bodies out of his head, and was confused about where he was for a few moments, before he looked around, and found he was safe in his bed in the living quarters of the Cheydinhal Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Someone was leaning over his bed, grinning.

'Welcome back.' Said Vicente Valtieri. 'Enjoyed your sleep?'


	2. Chapter 2

Cheydinhal Sanctuary

Cheydinhal Sanctuary

Irillian groaned and fell back onto his bed, his hands covering his face, eyes tight shut, trying to erase the pictures of his nightmare from his brain. It was then that he cried out, as the palms of his hands had just hit two sharp things that seemed to be poking out of his mouth. For a few moments he lay there, confused as the two pinpricks in his hand dripped blood onto his sheets. It was then that his brain raced ahead, and he realised why he had the nightmare, and why there were now four fangs poking out from his gums.

Three days earlier, Vicente Valtieri had passed on the dark gift to Irillian, by biting him in his sleep. The three days was up, and now Irillian was a full-fledged vampire.

Irillian was a Dark Elf, an ancient race, which went down in history for thousands of years. Dark Elves were distinguishable from other races due to their blood red eyes, and dark blue skin. They were natural war wizards, swordsmen, bowmen, and assassins, not many people of the race had great tempers.

Irillian was an exception; he generally got on well with others, depending on their values. But was an almost exactly perfect representative of Dark Elves in all other ways. His sword technique was extraordinary, as was his agility and athletics. When taught magic, he got the hang of them very quickly, and already knew over fifty different spells by the age of fifteen. He was a natural at aiming true with bows and throwing weapons, and had beautiful reflexes, making him a brilliant assassin. This is what had made him end up in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood, an illegal society of bloodthirsty assassins.

For a man to have the option to join the Dark family, a member would visit them in their sleep after the man had killed someone. They are then given the task to murder again, a weak person, easy to kill. After they had succeeded in that mission, they would again be visited in their sleep, to be welcomed into the Dark Brotherhood. Irillian had been found by Lucien Lachance, a member of the Black Hand, whose rank was higher than most others of the Dark Brotherhood. Irillian recalled the memory perfectly. His father, a wealthy drunk, had had an argument with Irillian one night, and it had ended in a brawl, leaving his father lying on the floor yelling insults at Irillian as he walked out the door. Later that night, Lucien came towards Irillian, who was sleeping in an alleyway. Lucien explained that he had been hired from Irillian's father to kill him. Irillian had just managed to escape. Later that night, Irillian entered his father's house and killed him in his sleep. Lucien returned to him afterwards, to grant him the choice of becoming a Dark Brother.

Irillian had now been in the Dark Brotherhood for four years, having been taking orders from Vicente Valtieri, a vampire who was now four hundred years of age, yet he seemed to still have the looks of a thirty year old. Vicente was a Breton, a human race that dominated the land of High Rock. Imperials, one of the other human races, were found mainly in their homeland, Cyrodiil, where Cheydinhal was found.

'You make quite a vampire,' Vicente stated, making Irillian come back to his senses. 'Go have a look in the mirror.' He smiled. 'Sadly, it is now day, and you and I cannot leave the sanctuary for many hours. I'm going to now go rest, I will see you soon.'

Irillian muttered goodbye to Vicente as he headed up the steps to the door. Sliding his feet onto the cold stone floor. The feeling in his legs seemed to come back to him, and he stood up, pulled on a shirt and some pants, all that of which were a black material. Bits of the nightmare still flashed in Irillian's brain but he pushed them away, feeling slightly embarrassed and foolish to have been that scared of something that wasn't real. The stone cooled him down, and seemed to make his breathing ease.

All of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary was made of stone, because it was built underground. 300 years old, it was owned by Lucien Lachance and managed by an Argonian, Ocheeva. The Argonians' mainland was a country South of Cyrodiil called Black Marsh. Argonians were reptilian creatures, which stood on their hind legs, and were another type of the many races of Cyrodiil.

The Sanctuary had a main room, a corridor leading off to Vicente's and Ocheeva's rooms. In the main room, there were two large, reinforced doors, one leading to a combat training room, another to the living quarters, where Irillian was now. There were twelve beds in the living quarters, with twelve chests next to the beds, for each of the Dark Brothers and Sisters. A table and some cupboards was crammed into the corner of the room, and next to that was a large basin on a thick pillar. Inside was held water. Even though this was used to wash hands of grime, the people of the Sanctuary also used it as a mirror. Irillian stepped up to it, eyes closed. Leaning over the basin, he opened his eyes and inspected his reflection. A rather handsome Dark Elf stared back at him from the pool of water.

Irillian's vampirism had not changed his long black hair covering his face, nor had it changed the tattoo of a Black hand on the side of his face. His eyes remained blood red, but his cheeks were now gaunt and hollow, decreasing slightly the attractiveness of the Dark Elf. Two fangs poked out from under the upper lip. Irillian's posture was the same as usual, broad shouldered and quite tall. His face still showed a don't-mess-with-me look, broken occasionally by a smile to those who were his friends. Irillian was impressed with his new look of being a vampire. He looked very intimidating. He would likely get away with any blackmail, because people would know they would not stand a chance. Irillian smirked, and left the basin to sit at the table, where M'raaj Dar was occupying a chair, feasting on a large piece of dear meat.

'I see you are now a vampire…' M'raaj said, looking up from his meal for a split second before returning to it. M'raaj was a Khajiit, another type of race. Khajiits were practically half human, half cat. Varying in different looks and qualities, like all other races, Khajiits came from Elyswer, a country also South of Cyrodiil. Khajiits had the look of a human, but with odd parts, just like Argonians. For one thing, Khajiits had fur all over their body, and a cat-like head. Instead of feet, they had paws, and paws with long fingers and claws for hands. They also had long tails, M'raaj's was sleek through to the end, were it suddenly became quite bushy. He had a short main of dreads, which he had held back by a headband. Yellow eyes with slits for pupils looked around at his feast.

'Help yourself to anything.' M'raaj said kindly to Irillian. Irillian grinned; he distinctly remembered M'raaj being very rude to him when he had first joined the Dark Brotherhood, unlike all the other members, who treated him as if he really was their true blood brother. But as Irillian rose through the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood, M'raaj suddenly apologized for his behaviour and immediately tried his hardest to please Irillian.

Accepting the offer, Irillian picked a particularly tasty looking piece of boar meat and launched his fangs into it. Juice spilled down his front from the meat, normally he would especially love tender meat like this, but for some reason, it seemed oddly bitter. His heart slightly sunk as he frowned, thinking he knew the answer to this problem.

'Enjoying it?' M'raaj Dar asked, still not looking up from the dear meat that he was gulfing down. 'I just had a piece of that before, delicious isn't it?'

'Uh…' Irillian answered. He knew he was right. No longer would any food taste the same to him. His only craving was for human blood.

Standing up from the table, Irillian walked out the door of the Living Quarters, to meet face to face with Teinaava, Ocheeva's brother.

'Irillian!' He cried hurriedly. 'Why not leave here for a break from the Sanctuary for a bit? What do you think?'

'I can't.' Irillian replied. 'It's day time, and I've just turned into a vampire, as you can see…'

'As I can - what?' Teinaava asked, finally looking properly at Irillian. 'Oh, I didn't realise. Well, uh… congratulations.' Though he didn't sound very happy.

'Why do you want to leave so badly anyway?' Irillian questioned.

'Oh… Well, Vicente and Antoinetta are having the same old argument. It seems she has been using a large amount of garlic with her alchemy again, and finally he's putting his foot down. I'm sick of those two always getting at each other's necks.'

He chuckled at his own pun. 'Ah well, I'll go see if Mjaar Dar would like to come. See you around.' And he left through the door Irillian was still holding open. As Irillian stood there, he too started to hear the shouts from down the corridor. Irillian started towards the noise, heading down the steps, passing Ocheeva's room and around the corner until he reached Vicente's room, where the doors where wide open. Antoinetta was on one side of the room, near the middle, cursing Vicente at the top of her voice, which was unusually high, as if the argument had been going on for quite a while. Vicente was over in the corner of the room by his bed on the other side, a disgusted look on his face. Gogron gro-Bolmog, an orc, was shoving him up against the wall while Ocheeva was in the middle of the room, between the two, trying to hold Antoinetta still. A mortar and pestle was lying shattered on the ground a mixture smelling of garlic spilling out over the floor. Irillian took a step back; the garlic seemed to sting his nostrils as they smelled the putrid flavour.

'YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE CALLED MY BROTHER!' Antoinetta screamed from behind Ocheeva. 'I HOPE THE SUN SCOLDS YOUR FACE UNTIL YOU BURN TO DEATH!'

'Antoinetta! Don't say things like that!' Ocheeva whimpered.

'HOW DARE YOU!' Vicente roared back. 'THIS IS YOUR ENTIRE FAULT! YOU KNOW I AM AFFECTED BY GARLIC! DON'T YOU DARE SCOFF AT ME LIKE THAT! MAY SITHIS TEACH YOU A LESSON!'

'Vicente! Quiet!' Irillian yelled. All heads turned to Irillian, for no one had even noticed he was there. 'You two are behaving terribly!' He addressed the Antoinetta and Vicente. 'Any time soon and you shall be breaking the Five Tenets! Pull yourselves together!'

Vicente and Antoinetta had stopped struggling against Ocheeva's and Gogron's now limps grasps. They were all shocked at what Irillian had said. Never before had they heard him yell at another Dark Brotherhood member.

Antoinetta was the first to recover. She took her arms out of Ocheeva's hands, uttered a spell at the mortar and pestle, which then repaired itself instantly garlic and all, picked it up and stormed up the corridor. Gogron let go of Vicente, mumbled something about the training room and hurriedly left after Antoinetta.

Vicente and Ocheeva were both still staring at Irillian as though he had declared he was going to single handedly get rid of the whole town guard.

'Look, I'm sorry I got a little-' Irillian started.

'Don't.' Vicente said.

'Don't what?'

'Don't apologise. It's alright, you… You did the right thing.' And he looked down from Irillian, before climbing onto the slab of stone he called a bed.

Ocheeva walked out the door, motioning to Irillian as she passed. Irillian sighed and followed after her. They marched up the corridor and into Ocheeva's room.

'Sit, brother.' Ocheeva ordered, obviously trying, but failing in adding some kindness to her voice.

'I'm fine, thank you.'

'No, I insist. Sit.' She said, still with the same tone in her voice. Irillian sat at one of the two chairs by a desk. Ocheeva sat in the other.

'I was surprised at your behaviour downstairs, Irillian…' She started.

'Surprised? How?'

'It wasn't like you.'

'But it stopped the argument.'

'But it wasn't like you.'

'So?' Irillian asked, irritated.

'So I'm worried.' Ocheeva said quietly. 'This vampirism, even before this morning when you fully turned, it has been showing some changes in you.'

'Well that's obvious. I've been turned into a vampire, of course I've changed.'

Ocheeva stared. 'You have never used sarcasm at me before. You are acting like a badly behaved child.'

'And so was Antoinetta and Vicente, they were close to breaking the Five Tenets.'

'Yes, I must agree. The way they acted, was not tolerable. But as you could see, Gogron and I were handling it. I am worried, about you breaking the Five Tenets.'

Irillian stood up, outraged.

'I had done nothing compared to Vicente and Antoinetta! I wasn't about to throttle one of them!' He snarled, anger and confusion rising inside him.

'I know you were not about to throttle either of them.' Ocheeva said calmly. 'But if you would please sit down again, I will explain more to you. Even though you did not feel the urge to kill today, does not mean you might not try another day.'

'What?' Irillian cried, kicking aside the chair and pacing up and down the room, his hands clasped behind his head. 'Why are you saying this? What's the real point?'

'You want the point?' Ocheeva said, standing up slowly.

'Yes!'

'You are in danger of hurting people you care about! You are changing! That was not you downstairs! You could start to think it's right to attack your brothers and sisters! You could be dangerous!'

Irillian froze in his pacing. His heart beat slowing.

'I don't need to discuss this with you.' He said, walking towards the door. He stopped at the archway, turned back and told Ocheeva. 'I will never, _never_, even _think_ of hurting a dark brother or sister.' And he turned on the spot and stalked away.

'Brother, how about we grab a drink at the-'

'What's the time?' he interrupted M'raaj Dar.

'Uh… Around noon I think.' He told Irillian, startled. Irillian grunted his thanks and sat down a nearby table, picking up a book and opening to the first page. It was a while before he realised he was not taking in a single word of the text. His mind was wondering away. The injustice of it all. _He_ was the one who broke the argument; he had not acted like the others. Yet supposedly he was close to invoking the wrath of Sithis? Sithis, the dark god. The Father of the Dark Brotherhood. He shuddered to think what would happen if he did break one of the Five Tenets. Not that he would. An insult of the Night Mother would never leave his lips, he would never, _never, _betray the Dark Brotherhood, always would he accept an order from a superior in the Brotherhood, and never would he steal from or kill a Dark Brother or Sister. He loved them all in their own ways. Though he seemed to have more of a liking for Vicente – perhaps they had more in common than the rest – and a Wood Elf of the name Telaendril. She was away at that time at the Imperial City.

Abandoning the book, Irillian stood up and stalked through the doors to the training room. Perhaps he could let out some of his frustration on one of the dummies.

When he first entered the Training Room, Irillian thought that only Gogron was inside, but soon he found Antoinetta huddled in a corner hacking away at a life size wooden dummy. She gave him a reproachful look before returning to her combat.

'Don't mind her.' Gogron muttered to him. 'She's just a bit angry at everything at the moment. She seemed to have been quite hurt by the comment Vicente made about her cooking. Though I might add, I do agree with Vicente. Have you ever tried her onion soup?'

He grinned and returned to a large slab of wood hanging from the ceiling and started hitting it repeatedly with his enchanted axe, trying to hit the bull's-eye in the centre of the wood. Irillian had always wondered why Gogron had chose to join an Assassin Guild, as he was usually found walking around in iron armour, and always carried heavy weapons like clubs and axes.

Irillian stood up to another wooden dummy, identical to the one Antoinetta was now slicing at with all her force, and pulled out his own dagger. He felt a special attachment for this dagger. Given to him from Vicente Valtieri, its name was Sufferthorn and it had magical power encased within the steel that drained people of energy. The blade was crafted into a curve, and had a single line etched into it from the handle to the very tip. On that line were thorns that protruded all the way up, getting smaller as they climbed higher. The handle itself was made of a type of yellow bone, as strong as steel and was bent in a curve that fitted the dagger's style perfectly.

Irillian swung the dagger down upon the dummy, which shone red as if cursed when the blade touched it. It felt good to be able to let out his rage on this piece of wood. He swung Sufferthorn again and again until finally his arm felt dead and he could attack the dummy no more. He collapsed back on a bench. The room was deserted, Gogron and Antoinetta having left long before.

Surely it was close to darkness by now? Standing up, he crossed the room and out the door into the cool main hall of the Sanctuary. The instant he closed the door he could tell something was wrong. A revolting smell met his nose as he stepped further into the hall. His foot nudged something large and bony. Looking down he saw the body of Teinaava sprawled on the ground, blood oozing out of his mouth.

Irillian's heart skipped a beat, his lungs seemed to freeze up. There was a groan from down the corridor to his right. Irillian turned and raced down it, but before he even reached the stairs he tripped yet again on another body. He fell down the cold steps, feeling his nose break as it made contact with the stone. He rolled down the rest of the stairs, coming to a stop. Blood poured from his nose into his mouth.

_Get up…_ his brain seemed to tell him. But his body did not want to move. _Get up…_

Irillian gave in, and did what he was being told. He staggered to his feet and inched back up the steps. M'raaj Dar's cold, lifeless eyes stared back into his. This could not be happening, it could not. The groan sounded again, further down the corridor and Irillian moved on, determined to find someone alive, to explain what happened. He turned the corner and entered Vicente Valtieri's room. Another groan came from the corner of the room. Irillian turned and saw a shadow huddled into a ball.

'Vicente?'

'No… Please… Don't…I'm dead anyway… Please don't… _Please…'_

'Vicente!' Irillian cried out. He rushed forwards, pushing aside a turned over desk that was barring his way from getting to Vicente.

'No… _Please…_ Stay back… I cannot take it…'

'It's alright Vicente, I'm coming!' Irillian said, deserting his attempt at moving the desk and instead climbing over it.

'No… Have mercy, please…'

'Vicente…' Irillian whispered, crouching down next to him. Vicente was worse than Irillian had ever seen him. His face was pale white, one of his eyes had been butchered so much that it was now just a bloody mess, some of his teeth were missing. 'Who did this to you? Where are they?'

'What are you…?' Vicente mumbled, his brow furrowed in confusion. 'Get away… You killed… No…'

'Vicente, you need help.'

'Away…'

'Come with me…'

'_No…_'

'Can you get up?'

'NO!' Vicente roared, hitting Irillian in the cheek. Pain soared through Irillian, nearly enough to match his confusion and fear. Vicente tried to yell at Irillian more, but at once started coughing, blood propelling from his mouth as he did so.

'Vicente!' Irillian cried, blood spraying all over him. Vicente tried again to hit Irillian, but this time Irillian was ready. He caught the man's wrist and stared at Vicente's hand. On his index finger he wore a ring, made of ebony with a single white stone in the middle. Green liquid was gushing out of it.

Poison.

Irillian dropped the vampire's wrist and felt his cheek. Indeed, it had been punctured by the ring, and as Irillian drew his hand back from his face, he saw the vivid green liquid on his palm. Irillian's realisation seemed to trigger the poison. An explosion of pain seared through his body, making him writhe and scream, falling backwards onto the floor. He heard and felt Vicente fall to the floor, and knew he was dead, but it was impossible to care at that time, this pain was beyond belief. He twitched and rolled on the floor, barely noticing the footsteps of a shiny silver man stepping up to him.

And then it stopped. He looked up and saw the man's hand an inch above his face. Irillian sat up, and scrambled over against the wall, looking at the man properly for the first time. He seemed to be made of a silver-white mist, he had a small goatee and completely bald. His face seemed to be the type that usually seemed kind and friendly, yet now it was terrible, every particle was etched with fury/ Irillian knew he was the reason the pain had stopped. He had most likely cast a spell on him.

'Who, who are you?' Irillian whispered, his voice shaking.

'I?' the man's booming voice echoed throughout the room. 'I am Sithis. And I have come to end your miserable life.'

For the second time that day Irillian's heart skipped a beat. Sithis, _here_? To kill him?

'But - but why? Why are you killing us all?'

'Killing you _all_?' the man repeated. 'Don't try and place the blame on me, vermin. The reason I am here today to kill you is because of your treachery of the Five Tenets.'

'What… treachery?' Irillian mumbled, confusion overwhelming his fear.

'Do not try and make me out as a fool!' Sithis roared, bringing back the fear in Irillian's heart. 'You have killed all your Dark Brothers and Sisters of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary!'

'What?' Irillian cried, dumbstruck. 'Me? How could you… I didn't… You must've…'

'I must've what? Been mistaken?' Sithis let out a high, cold laugh. The hair on the back of Irillian's neck stood on end. 'Then how come this blade was found dug deep into Ocheeva's heart?'

He threw a dagger down in front of Irillian. Irillian stared at it for a moment. It was impossible, _impossible._ His old dagger, given to him by Lucien Lachance, the Blade of Woe was lying by Irillian's feet, gleaming red.

'No… It can't be!'

'Then how come it's true?'

And as Sithis turned and walked away, the pain in his cheek came again, and Irillian knew what would happen. It roared through his body, finally reaching his heart, and ending his life. His scream was no more. Yet he could still hear Sithis yelling.

Irillian…

He was dead…

Irillian…

He was innocent…

Irillian!

But still, he was dead.

'Irillian!' yelled Vicente.

Irillian opened his eyes, his breathing heavy, his whole body shaking.

'About time…' grumbled Vicente. 'It's dark outside, and I still need to teach you how to hunt. Get in your gear, quickly. I'm rather hungry.'

Irillian stared as Vicente walked away. He was sitting on the bench in the Training Room, soaked in sweat. The dream was so real, he was sure it was real. As he got up and made his way through the door, he was half-expecting to see Teinaava dead on the ground. But there were no bodies on the floor. Blinking to try and get the images out of his head, Irillian crossed the room to the Living Quarters, wondering if these nightmares would ever stop.


	3. Chapter 3

the Hunt

The night air was fresh and cool, the sky clear. Stars shone down on their silhouettes as they crept down the side of the path, keeping clear of guards so as to avoid detection. Barely a sound came from them as they made their way across the city. Their armour light and flexible, made of a strong cloth. The assassins had almost all the advantages with them that night. Only the moon's light could give them away. A wolf howled in the distance. No one would expect that death was approaching, careful, focused, silent. A twig cracked, the swish of a cloak and a guard lay unconscious, unable to tell who or what they were attacked by. Swiftly they climbed along the bottom of bridges, hanging upside down. They stole over to the Cheydinhal Castle, moving up the steps, climbing the walls of the castle, finally reaching a large window and stopping just above it on the castle roof.

'We are about to enter the private chambers of the Count of Cheydinhal.' Vicente spoke to his companion. 'No one but he must know we were there. As I wake the Count, you must knock out his Bodyguard _without him knowing._ He must wake up thinking he had just fallen asleep for a while.'

'Too easy.' Assured Irillian. Vicente smiled, made to get up from their crouching position, then paused.

'When we are speaking to the Count, follow my lead. If he asks you a question, remain silent.'

'Of course.' Irillian answered. 'But, why are we here?'

'You shall see.' And with that, Vicente grabbed the banister and swung over the edge, landing on the outer windowsill, and carefully easing open the window. Irillian followed him closely. They went unnoticed by the sleeping Count and his bodyguard.

As Vicente moved to the bed, Irillian crept in the opposite direction. Humming to himself, the guard stood facing the door, unaware of how close a murderer was to him. It had obviously been a good night; the guard swayed slightly as he walked towards a luxurious-looking couch and sat down. He did indeed have quite rosy cheeks and didn't seem to be paying attention to his surroundings. Irillian wondered if his luck could be any greater that night. Whispering an incantation, he pointed the palm of his hand at the bodyguard. A red mist shot from Irillian's hand, and the guard slumped over on the couch, unconscious.

There was a muffled yell from behind Irillian, and he turned to see Vicente pinning the Count to his extravagant bed, one hand on his chest, the other covering his mouth.

Vicente allowed the Count to sit up on his bed, and then he removed his hands from the man.

'What is it tonight, vampire?' spat the Count. 'My bodyguard will be here any moment; he was just downstairs getting everyone to turn in. He'll be here, you know!'

'If you'd just use your eyes, for once you great slob,' – the Count glared at Vicente, but made no comment – 'You'll see that your loyal bodyguard has rolled unconscious upon your sofa, drunk.'

'My bodyguard? Drunk?' the Count whimpered. 'This cannot be!'

He stared over at the couch, and sure enough, his eyes fell upon the heap of metal and flesh lying there.

'You killed him!'

'Killed him?' Vicente roared with laughter. 'We didn't need to kill him! He's probably already got alcohol poisoning! And what would be the use of killing him? So you can give out warrants to search the abandoned house? Try to uncover the Sanctuary? How stupid do you think we are?'

'Not - Not stupid…' the Count mumbled, pushing against the wall with his back to try and get away from Vicente's glare. 'Why – Why are you here?'

'I'm introducing you to my new assistant. This is Irillian, he will be checking in on you every week, taking my place.'

Irillian stepped forwards from the shadows, and the Count gasped, obviously having not noticed that he was there. Irillian tried to act as if this was not news to him, and nodded to the Count, before stalking over to his indoor garden.

'You do not understand,' the Count whimpered. 'I swear on my life and on the lives of all the people here, I will not tell anyone the location of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary! Surely you don't need to get a replacement! I thought once you were gone that's it! Why can't you just trust me?'

'Oh we would like to trust you, but sadly we can't.' grumbled Vicente, picking up a handful of money from a pot. 'We have no proof that you, the most selfish of Counts, wouldn't sell us out for more of your useless gold.' He dropped the drakes back into the pot.

'I swear, I swear…' begged the Count, his hands clasped together. 'Just stop visiting me and giving me these nightmares.'

'Ha, you don't know nightmares.' Laughed Vicente.

'I don't deserve this! Why must you haunt me?'

'Be silent.' Ordered Vicente. The Count immediately stopped whining. 'You know the procedure.' Vicente stalked over next to Irillian, picking up an ordinary crystal bowl from a shelf. Slipping a knife from his belt, he used it to slice a large gash into his right arm. Irillian and the Count winced as the blade pierced the vampire's flesh. The Count gagged as Vicente's blood flowed into his bowl.

'That bowl was given to me by my Grandfather. How dare you disgrace it with your cursed blood.'

'You dare!' growled Irillian.

'Be silent!' repeated Vicente. He tucked the knife back into his belt, and magically sealed the wound on his arm. Licking up the rest of the blood on his arm, he handed the bowl to the Count.

'Say hello to your dead wife from me.' Grinned Vicente, and he forced the Count's head in the direction of the pool of blood. The Count gasped as the blood surface rippled and distorted. Irillian stared at the bowl, his eyes widening. The image of his deceased father watched him closely.

'No.' breathed Irillian.

'Why have you disgraced me Irillian?' the image whispered, loud enough for the world to hear. Tears sprouted to Irillian's eyes, and he pulled himself away from the image of his father. The speaking immediately stopped, to be replaced by screams issuing from the Count's mouth.

'NO MARIAN! I HAVEN'T!' squealed the Count to the crystal bowl. 'Please! Don't go! No one knows! Don't go! It's a secret! A secret! NO!'

Irillian eyed Vicente, shocked at what was happening. Just by the vampire's blood, the Count was hallucinating, supposedly seeing his dead wife. Vicente smiled and pulled the bowl away from the Count. His screams ceased as he fell back upon his velvet pillows. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead.

'Good man.' Murmured Vicente.

Out of the corner of Irillian's eye, a large dark shape started shifting.

'Vicente.' Irillian called. 'He's waking.'

Vicente glanced at the Count's bodyguard.

'Well, we must be off.' He murmured, raising his hand at the Count.

'No! Please! You don't have to! It's so painful! Please don't-'

A green jet of light shot from Vicente's palm, hitting the Count on the chest. The Count gave a roar of pain, and slumped on his bed in a deep sleep.

A guard burst into the glorious bedroom, sword drawn. He swept the room. The Count lay dead asleep on his magnificent bed. Nothing moved except for the dozing bodyguard, and the curtains in the breeze.

The guard grimaced, unsatisfied. He was sure he heard a scream. Keeping a tight grip on his sword, he moved around the edge of the bed. Nothing. He crept around the indoor garden. Not a whisper of movement. The guard let out a sigh of relief, sheathing his blade. He strode across to the window, closing it. He did not enjoy entering the Count's room; it had a certain eeriness about it that sent a chill down his back. Staring straight ahead, he quickly left the quarters.

Up on the roof, the two vampires crept towards the castle edge.

'So I'm going to stalk the Count?' Irillian whispered.

'Yes, but now is not the time.' Vicente answered. 'We have already used much of the night, and I still haven't taught you how to hunt.' And with that, Vicente leapt off the roof, soaring down towards ground. Irillian stared after him, and saw a purple glow form around Vicente for a second, and he started to slow down, letting him land gracefully upon the ground.

'Slow-fall spell.' Muttered Irillian before he too jumped off the side of the roof and copied Vicente's magic.

'Good, now follow me.'

Once again Irillian and Vicente crept through the city, ending up in front of the Mages Guild, a place where magicians of all sorts came and stayed, met others and practically, lived. The two vampires snuck over to a shrub next to the building and hid behind it.

'There is a High Elf up on the top level,' Vicente informed Irillian. 'That has been leading a party of mages to try to locate the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Place your fangs in his golden skin and drink until he has uttered his last breath. Leave this note next to the body.'

Vicente held out a roll of parchment that Irillian took.

'I hunt to kill tonight?' Irillian asked.

'Yes, indeed.' Vicente told Irillian. 'We thought that with your vampirism training, you might as well fill out a few contracts while you're at it. Sithis needs this man dead, so sate him.'

Irillian nodded, looked up, and started to climb the wall, using the various windowsills. Finally he reached the top floor, and silently pulled a pick from his pocket, unlocking the fasten on the inside of the window. All beds were occupied, and over in the corner on the other side of the room, lay Irillian's target, grumbling in his slumber. Irillian grinned, and jumped down from the window onto the polished wooden floor. The tall, elegant figure of the High Elf breathed calmly as his end slowly walked towards him. The long, rich face did not move as Irillian moved ever closer. Irillian despised most High Elves; they were too proud and arrogant, always thinking of other races as "lesser" than their own. Not once had Irillian ever made it through a whole conversation with a High Elf without being offended in some way. He had never had a contract for a High Elf before, and it was time for some revenge. But as he took another step on the cold floorboards, he at once knew something wasn't right. The elf's eyes sprang open, and a scalding hot fireball hit Irillian from behind. He was blasted over the elf's bed and into the wall. Feeling his nose break against the wooden wall, Irillian's knees gave way and he slumped down on the bed, where the elf shoved him off onto the floor. Irillian leapt back onto his feet, his legs shaking, and stared at his surroundings. A Golden Saint (a summoned creature, strong and reliable) stood in front of him, her arms raised. It had obviously been her who had sent the fireball at Irillian's back. She stood tall, her beautiful armour blinding Irillian with its light. The High Elf was now standing - robe half on – his skin identical to that of the saint's, holding a silver knife in his hand. And around Irillian, more mages were rising, summoning creatures, scurrying about, looking for weapons to aid them. A small movement from the Golden Saint, and again Irillian was blown against the wall, the fiery pain now erupting on his stomach. A hand grasped the front of Irillian's armour, and prised him off the bed, which he had again fallen onto.

'You should not have come here, assassin.' Said a voice. Irillian opened his eyes to see the High Elf's face right up at his own, holding him up off the ground. The High Elf swung his dagger through the air, but Irillian was too fast for him. He kneed the man in the stomach (the elf was holding him really quite high in the air), and he dropped onto the ground, where he sent a gust of wind from his hands, forcing the elf to the other side of the room. As soon as this all happened, everyone acted. Irillian, thinking fast despite his loss of blood from his nose and the hits against the wall, hurried over to the room door and locked it. He was not going to let Vicente show himself, especially since the old man was supposed to be an ancient myth. Irillian turned just in time to see a frost spell be sent towards him, and ducked quickly. The door behind him instantly turned pearl-white as the spell hit it. He rolled forwards, dodging another spell that made a hole in the wall beside him. Everything was a blur as he staggered upwards and started randomly throwing a fistful of darts at anything he saw moving. Colours exploded all around him as summoned beasts leapt through the air towards the lone Dark Elf. He heard a thump on the door behind him and knew Vicente was trying to get to Irillian, but he was sure that the Breton would not be able to force his way through an ice-reinforced locked door. And yet still more spells and daggers spun around Irillian as he rolled and jumped, barely seeing anything he was doing. A sharp blade ripped through his pauldron and tore open his shoulder, making him stagger sideways into a Clannfear. The reptilian beast threw him against a wall, snapping at him with its huge beak. It claws sliced at his face, and it head-butted him with it's enormous fan-shaped head. Stars popping in Irillian's eyes, he kicked blindly at it, eventually catching it in the stomach and making it keel over backwards. The Elf stood up, and raced past all the obstacles in his way hardly changing direction as the numerous spells hit him from behind. And finally he saw it, the window through which he came. Not even caring that it was now closed he charged at it with all the strength he could gather, and jumped.

Shards of glass flew with him as he soared through the air leaving the shattered window and the battle behind him. His limp body dropped, and he fell onto the roof of the guild's well, where he burst through the straw and onto the metal grate covering the deep, dark hole…


End file.
